


Your Happiness Was All I Ever Wanted

by ThereIsNoTragedyInThat



Series: Somewhere Between Kansas and the Open Road [10]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha Dean Winchester, Alpha Sam Winchester, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Brotherly Love, Domesticity in the Men of Letters Bunker (Supernatural), Gen, Pride, Protective Dean Winchester, Scenting, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-23
Updated: 2020-04-23
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:21:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23804536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThereIsNoTragedyInThat/pseuds/ThereIsNoTragedyInThat
Summary: Sam's scent had changed a lot since he was a kid, between growing up and the endless trauma, it was nice to find him finally settling into something like contentment.SPN A/B/O Bingo Fill N4: Applewood, Old Books, Earl Grey
Relationships: Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester
Series: Somewhere Between Kansas and the Open Road [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1698406
Comments: 3
Kudos: 42





	Your Happiness Was All I Ever Wanted

Dean smiled at his brother from across the old oak table currently strewn with books from the Men of Letter’s library. Sam had been at it for almost five hours now with barely a break between passages. When he got an idea, it was difficult to make him let it go, though Dean would have to start closing books and kicking his chair soon if they were going to get dinner at a reasonable time.

Still, he had another hour or so to just watch. Dean had been sitting here nearly as long as Sam, his own attention drifting between his laptop and magazine, feet kicked up high on the table, much to his brother’s irritation and Dean’s own glee. This wasn’t unusual for them, though he knew Sam had noticed the way every third or fourth breath came with a deeper inhale.

Sam did not comment. Dean was glad.

Talking about scents…and well almost anything in regard to their genders wasn’t really something they did. Both of them being alphas meant there were things they just knew, and they had never been the type to speak frankly about sex unless one of their ruts were coming up. That was out of necessity, they no longer went to find someone to satisfy their urges, they simply road it out in the Bunker, confident that their packmates would keep them safe and secure, well fed and watered until it ended.

Right now, though, Sam’s scent was changing, and it wasn’t because of an upcoming rut. It had started almost a week ago, a niggling sensation in Dean’s nose that had caused him to follow Sam around for several hours, trying to figure out what it reminded him of. It hadn’t been distinct enough to get a good reading but now…now he had finally figured it out.

It wasn’t uncommon for a person’s scent to change to indicate illness, pregnancy, and in extreme cases, emotion. It was also common knowledge that a pup’s scent would change when they became a teenager and later an adult as it became more intricate. They would all eventually curl together into something distinctly theirs, but it would also be affected by life changes on rare occasions.

Dean could recall easily the scent that had wafted up from Sam when he hit puberty and presented as an alpha. The pride in both him and his father had been palpable, not that they would have loved him any less as an omega or beta…but heats would have been hellish on the road. No, he woken to a strong applewood scent, tinged with a bitter edge that he now knew came from the anger that curled in Sam like a snake, so much like their father, that was regularly overpowered with a richer, earthy side that smelled inherently like home to Dean.

It seemed to represent his brother perfectly.

But, inevitably, it was doomed to change. Dean could still catch whiffs of it now and again and was always hit with a sense of nostalgia, but it was usually overpowered by the scent that had started to incase him as he grew toward adulthood. Again, Dean hadn’t been able to place it until one day, he followed his brother to the local library where he’d been doing research for their father and secretly filling out college applications, and had been hit with the smell of old books.

Sam had that thick, cloying, enticing smell all over him by the time he left for university and Dean had been angry, but he’d also understood. It had never been musty or suffocating, not that kind of book, it had always had something sweet to it, something promising discovery making it inherently mouth-watering and engaging and charismatic. To Dean…it was the height of comfort and trust.

That had been the scent his brother lived with most of their days back on the road. Dean could always find him with just the twitch of his nose, standing out starkly among the sourness of the motels and bars and open road…for awhile anyway.

Dean tried not to think about the time after Sam had died, when his scent had been so wrong for so long, how it had turned like ash in the air, dead and decaying as he consumed demon-blood. That was how he had known, had wished that people weren’t nose blind to their own scents and Sam could smell how wrong things were, how far he’d gone.

It had gotten better…briefly after his detox, had started smelling like his old self even while they’d been so broken. Of course, that didn’t last, and Dean had to live with his brother once he remembered the cage and the constant metallic scent of blood and trauma that hung around him like a cloak.

That had never really gone away, though it faded into the background eventually. Dean had accepted that and tried after each hunt to inhale the smell of fresh blood hidden beneath the one that was always there. He had learned to perfect it over the years.

Now. Now things were changing, Sam was changing, and Dean had been following him around eagerly. Some part of him could sense that his brother was different since moving into the bunker and settling into what they were both learning to call home.

Inhaling deeply and fixing his brother with knowing eyes, it finally hit him.

Earl Grey.

A wide smile spread across his lips. Citrusy with an undercurrent of warmth and contentment. Sam. Sam Winchester in his entirety. Dean could still detect hints of his older scents but this one seemed like the perfect storm of them all and he wouldn’t be surprised if the others faded into nothingness.

Something soft and aching settled in Dean’s chest and he looked away from Sam’s curious gaze. It wasn’t about the scent, not really, it was about what it meant…and it meant that Sam was finally at peace after everything, had finally found some semblance of happiness and acceptance and that itself was enough to make Dean’s alpha instincts preen with the success of raising his brother and providing him with a safe space where he could just be.

Dean hoped this was the last time Sam’s scent would ever change.


End file.
